Invincible Starting from Max Level Attributes

With a light shout from Yang Zhen, the entire Barbaric World suddenly echoed with a terrifying sound, like the ancient roar of a dragon. The sky seemed to overturn, and a rumbling wave surged towards Yang Zhen’s hands.

A dull yellow light burst from Yang Zhen’s eyes; he grimaced in pain, swearing loudly, “Damn, I didn’t expect obtaining a Heavenly Book would be so painful. I’m screwed.”

The terrifying wave lasted for nearly a quarter of an hour. Finally, Yang Zhen, completely drained, collapsed onto a wooden stool, gasping for breath, without an ounce of strength to spare.

In his mind, a huge, primitive object shone brightly, something like a book. It echoed with the Heavenly Book of Mysterious Principles he had obtained before. But this Heavenly Book bore three bold, archaic characters, gleaming as gold – the Ksitigarbha Chapter, emanating an aura of earth and heaven!

The Heavenly Book divided the Ksitigarbha, containing the essence of heaven and earth. Even the faintest whiff of its aura felt like a wave of primeval power. Panting, Yang Zhen broke into a grin, “What do you call this? It’s sheer luck! Isn’t it, Slacker Cat, Slacker Cat?”

The lack of voices cheering “666” around him perplexed Yang Zhen. Opening his eyes, he found himself utterly baffled.

The wooden house had vanished, or rather, collapsed. Only the wooden stool under Yang Zhen remained while the surroundings were nothing but ruins. Yang Zhen himself was buried under rubble.

“Damn, has Spirit Peak collapsed?”

Once he had started absorbing the Ksitigarbha chapter of the Heavenly Book, Yang Zhen had somehow foreseen this. The world would likely cease to exist after he completed the absorption, but the level of destruction was beyond his expectations.

Fortunately, no one witnessed this. Otherwise, being held responsible for the destruction of Spirit Peak would have been a difficult cross to bear for Yang Zhen.

However, since there were no witnesses, Yang Zhen felt rather relieved. Standing up, he extended his senses to the surrounding rubble and instantly felt frustrated.

He wasn’t just buried under rubble: he was buried under a mountain. The entire wooden house had sunk several feet below the surface.

Yang Zhen stood there, completely clueless. With his current state, he couldn’t punch his way out. If he tried, the falling debris would bury him alive before he even made it out.

The first inheritor of this world to suffocate to death – an amusing title, indeed.

With a self-deprecating laugh, Yang Zhen placed his hands on the rubble. His eyes emitted a dull yellow light for a fleeting moment, barely noticeable if one wasn’t paying attention.

“Ksitigarbha Skill!”

Following Yang Zhen’s light shout, his figure instantly vanished, swiftly moving through the rocks and stones.

Yang Zhen was startled. The cultivation method recorded in the Ksitigarbha chapter of the Heavenly Book was incredibly profound. He had trouble adapting to its power at first, which sent him flying around aimlessly underground like a headless fly.

After an indeterminate period, Yang Zhen finally burst out of the ground, only to stare wide-eyed at his surroundings in the next moment.

“Damn!”

He was at the edge of a cliff. The power of the Ksitigarbha chapter was still in effect, and his body wasn’t able to adjust its direction in mid-air—he fell straight down.

On the ground, two groups were caught up in a fierce battle. Two women, smeared with blood and pale from exhaustion, were depending on each other against the onslaught.

A group of practitioners stood around them, their faces gloomy and uncertain as they continued their attacks. It seemed like they were about to seize the women when a strange shouting from above startled them, prompting them to look up.

Boom !

Yang Zhen managed to redirect his True Essence finally, but it was too late. He crashed into the ground like a cannonball, creating a deep pit.

Everyone around was dumbfounded. They stood still, staring wide-eyed at Yang Zhen inside the pit, their faces reflecting disbelief and confusion.

“Ptui, ptui!”

Yang Zhen spat out the grass in his mouth. He clumsily climbed out of the pit, dusting off his clothes. To the baffled onlookers, he apologized, “Sorry for interrupting your fight. Please, carry on…carry on….”

As he spoke, Yang Zhen crawled out of the pit, ready to leave.

Two women in the crowd looked anxious. A young woman seemed to want to speak but was stopped by another middle-aged woman, who subtly shook her head.

On the move, Yang Zhen contemplated the Ksitigarbha Skill from the Ksitigarbha Chapter in his mind, wondering how to better direct it next time. Suddenly, he saw a long sword aimed at him and asked in surprise, “Excuse me, fellow Practitioner, why are you pointing your sword towards this Sao Saint?” Sao Saint?

Upon hearing Yang Zhen’s peculiar self-reference, the middle-aged man before him looked stunned and asked solemnly, “Who are you? Could you be a survivor from the Yang Family?”

“Yang Family?” Yang Zhen was bewildered, saying, “lam indeed surnamed Yang, but I’m not some remnant of the Yang Family. Would you mind stepping aside, friend? You’re blocking the path of this Sao Saint.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes flickered with a hint of a dark expression. He moved aside cryptically with an elusive smile, saying, “Safe travels, Young Master.”

“Thank you!”

Yang Zhen bowed respectfully and marched off. Suddenly, a sweet voice echoed, “Watch out, Young Master!”

“Hm?” Upon hearing this, Yang Zhen turned around and looked at the source of the voice in surprise.

A dark shadow suddenly appeared next to Yang Zhen, waving a shining sword aiming straight at Yang Zhen’s heart.

Stunned, Yang Zhen turned his head and saw a ferocious face next to the middle-aged man – a young practitioner who said fiercely, “Kid, if you also bear the surname Yang, you won’t be leaving… wait, what?”

What the fuck?

Yang Zhen looked blankly at the stabbing sword with a dazed expression. What did he mean by ‘you won’t leave if your surname is Yang’? Had he been eating your rice or sleeping in your bed due to having the surname Yang?

Clang!

The sound of clashing metal echoed through the air. The young Practitioner’s sword technique was fierce and accurate, pointed right at Yang Zhen’s heart. But it seemed like he lacked the necessary strength. Instead of piercing through, his long sword simply snapped.

In bewilderment, the middle-aged Practitioner looked at his broken sword, gave a weird yelp, and hastily retreated. Within moments, he had returned to the safety of the distance, staring at Yang Zhen in horror.

Yang Zhen looked down at his ragged clothes which had received further damage from the stones and now bore another little hole, revealing the skin underneath where his heart lay. The cool breeze blew against it, and it felt chilly.

Witnessing this extraordinary scene, everyone was struck dumb, looking blankly at Yang Zhen’s exposed skin through the hole in his clothes, they gulped hard.

Yang Zhen slowly reached out to cover the hole, turned to look at the young man holding the broken sword, and said menacingly, “Son of a bitch, you dare to stab me?”

“Attack!” The middle-aged man shouted, and more than ten Practitioners charged at Yang Zhen together.

The sweet-voiced young woman was taken aback. She unsheathed her sword and rushed forward, yelling, “Watch out, Young Master!”

The middle-aged woman also looked shocked. Seeing everyone rushing towards Yang Zhen, she changed her countenance, and with a soft rebuke, her sword emitted a cluster of blue radiance as she attacked the middle-aged man.

A long sword aimed at Yang Zhen’s head. He shook his head and muttered, “Too slow.”

After avoiding the sword, Yang Zhen slowly squatted down, pressed his hand on the ground, and muttered, “Ksitigarbha Skill, Bind!”

Boom!

A wave of earth rolled up right under the Practitioners’ feet. Everyone felt something was wrong, and when they looked down, they were completely horrified.

“What… what the hell is this?” The middle-aged man screamed, thrust his sword downward, but accidentally stabbed his own foot instead, turning pale from the pain.